For the first time, Han Zhi felt the desire to destroy Song Chuyi. Previously, although he had wished her dead when defeated by her in their confrontations, reason had clearly and explicitly known that she absolutely could not die, because Song Chuyi’s value while alive far exceeded her value dead.

But his original plan hadn’t been hidden from Zhou Weiqi and Elder Madam Fan. They had both agreed with and supported him. It was just one matter, just something within a few days, yet they could unhesitatingly change their minds, completely disregarding what stage his plan had already progressed to.

He sat expressionlessly behind Young Madam Fan like a clay Buddha for half the day. After a long while, he finally stood up with a loud rustle.

Young Madam Fan still sat upright without moving, not even turning her head to glance at him. Only after he left the room did she support herself on her knees to straighten up. Qiuju hurried forward to help her, hesitating several times before finally sighing. “You’re too cold toward the Heir Apparent.”

She was older than all the other serving maids in the household. Now already twenty-seven years old, in another household she would long since have been a housekeeper’s wife with a brood of children. But she had put up her hair herself and sworn to serve by Young Madam Fan’s side for life. Only in front of her did Young Madam Fan show a bit of living human spirit.

Young Madam Fan picked up the tea she handed over and took a small sip, holding the cup somewhat distracted. “So what? Should I let him compete with his cousin?”

One also had to see whether he could win the competition. If in the end he failed to snatch the person and instead got himself covered in filth—just like herself many years ago. In the end, where was there any ideal husband? Only a bedfellow viewed with mutual disgust, wishing they could be strangers to each other.

Back then, if not for Elder Madam Fan, why would Young Madam Fan have lived these past years neither human nor ghost? Blood sisters they were, yet Elder Madam Fan could still bring herself to do it.

Qiuju harbored resentment in her heart, but also knew she was just an insignificant minor figure who truly couldn’t do anything. Even Young Madam Fan was held in Elder Madam Fan’s tight grip with no room to move—what more could she herself do?

Yet she still felt wronged on Young Madam Fan’s behalf. Back then, after that stunning musical performance that brought fame throughout the realm, the person who should have won the Crown Prince’s love at first sight wasn’t Elder Madam Fan at all—it was Young Madam Fan. But not only did Elder Madam Fan take her sister’s place, she wouldn’t even grant Young Madam Fan’s request to return home. She and Han Zhengqing forcibly…

Qiuju closed her eyes, unable to bear thinking of past events. She crouched down and grasped Young Madam Fan’s ice-cold hands that felt like a dead person’s. “Don’t worry. The Heir Apparent will understand sooner or later… will understand sooner or later.”

How could he understand? Young Madam Fan listlessly shook her head and revealed a bitter smile.

Elder Madam Fan had raised him as her own son since childhood, far more attentive to him than she, his own mother. After so many years of subtle influence, Han Zhi had long since determined in his heart that she was an absolutely heartless and unnatural mother.

Just like this time—it was clearly Elder Madam Fan’s idea, yet the bitter fruit and blame all fell on her to bear. She had to play the villain.

Sometimes she didn’t even know when such days would end. Thinking of that white silk sash after giving birth to her daughter, her heart actually felt vaguely disappointed. If only she could have died then and been done with it—how wonderful that would have been.

She had stopped knowing how to smile many years ago. Keeping a straight face had become the least effortful expression. At this moment, she sat woodenly for a while, withdrew her nearly sensationless hand from Qiuju’s grasp, and slowly stroked Qiuju’s hair. “Soon… soon. Once she obtains everything she wants to obtain, she’ll release me. I’m truly too exhausted from living. When that time comes, you should return home. Your cousin has surely already married, but men are unreliable creatures—don’t be disheartened or disappointed. Take your accumulated savings from these years and find a place to live a good life…”

Qiuju lay prostrate on her lap, finally unable to hold back her tears.

Han Zhengqing was an extremely life-cherishing person. Even with a common cold, he wished he could tie an imperial physician to his belt. No one was like Young Madam Fan, thinking about death all day, estranged from her children, only seeking a quick death.

She felt her mistress’s life was truly too bitter. She herself was a tool in Elder Madam Fan’s hands, and even the children she bore had to dedicate everything for Elder Madam Fan’s son.

Young Madam Fan’s eyes stared straight ahead, lost in thought for a while, wooden like a clay-sculpted Buddha. After quite some time, she finally returned to herself, lowered her head, and laughed. “Why cry? What’s there to cry about? Look at me—after crying and crying, one eventually stops crying.”

Actually, back then she had cried too. Back then, how frightened she had been! A young girl, already heartbroken with grief and resentment over the matter of being substituted with no one to tell, waking to find herself in a strange man’s bed…

During that time, she cried every day, every night, cried until her eyes nearly went blind. Unable to die, she hysterically begged Elder Madam Fan to let her go, longingly hoped her family would come to rescue her.

But she waited and waited, and nothing came. Slowly, she learned not to cry, no longer blamed her parents for their favoritism. Her entire being became a living corpse, more like a string-pulled puppet, woodenly allowing Elder Madam Fan to apply powder and rouge, allowing her to pull strings and manipulate from behind the curtain.

Qiuhe pushed open the door from outside and saw Qiuju sobbing uncontrollably. She was startled for a moment and stood rooted in place, not daring to move. She was also one of Young Madam Fan’s senior maids, but was a full ten years younger than Qiuju—now only seventeen. She couldn’t compare with the other two who had been gifted by Elder Madam Fan and had prestige, much less compare with the many years of bond between Young Madam Fan and Qiuju. She had always been very honest and dutiful, keeping her head down.

Young Madam Fan again wore that cold, indifferent, rigid Buddha-like expression. Without even raising her eyelids, she asked in a somber voice, “What is it?”

Qiuhe didn’t dare look around randomly. Lowering her head, her voice was thin but not so quiet that Young Madam Fan couldn’t hear. “The Heir Apparent… the Heir Apparent has returned to the capital.”

Young Madam Fan felt her scalp was stretched too tight and aching. She reached up to rub her temples and nodded to indicate she understood.

Han Zhi was truly too much like Elder Madam Fan—selfish and self-serving, cold-blooded and heartless to the extreme. At this moment, he was unhappy, so naturally he had to find something to vent his anger on. Elder Madam Fan had already provoked Prince Gong and Prince Duan. Now he clearly intended to continue kicking them while they were down.

She couldn’t say whether her heart was dead as ashes or already numb. The prayer beads on her hand passed through her fingers one by one without the slightest sensation. These matters were never hers to decide. Elder Madam Fan and Han Zhengqing always knew better how to make Han Zhi obedient. She had no say at all. She could only teach herself to be colder, even colder, so that when something happened, it wouldn’t feel like dying all over again.